


A Soundtrack to a Life

by rumpelsnorcack



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpelsnorcack/pseuds/rumpelsnorcack
Summary: Films, Even thought, were easy.  They did what you told them, and if you didn’t like something you could tweak it.  Change it.  Control it.   The one thing Even didn’t pay much attention to, though, was the soundtrack.  It never seemed important, not having had much of an impact on the movies he’d started avidly watching.  But that all changed the day he watched Romeo + Juliet for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% self-indulgent. I love Baz Luhrmann movies and Even loves Baz Luhrmann movies, so obviously I had to do a Luhrmann tribute in fic form, in this case via the music which I used to listen to avidly. For the most part the music is from Romeo and Juliet and Moulin Rouge because those are the soundtracks I know best, apart from Strictly Ballroom which doesn't seem to fit the bill of 'epic love story' according to Even's definition so I left it out. Actual songs mentioned will be listed at the end of the fic.
> 
> Also, while the music is the intended focus of this fic, there is of course a fair amount of discussion of Even's illness. I tried to make it as accurate as I could, but research can only do so much. If anything feels wrong to anyone who is familiar with bipolar disorder, please do let me know and I'll change it. Similarly, I know very little about Norway. Living in a small country, I know how annoying it is when people get details wrong when writing about my country, so again if I get anything wrong please do tell me.
> 
> As always, many many thanks to Strangetowns and charliewrites for reading it over and giving helpful advice and encouragement.

There were many things about film-making that intrigued Even.  The way you could control the story, rewrite it however you liked in the editing suite.  The way you could saturate colour to make everything larger than life, or rip colour out to make everything look dull and uninteresting.  The way you could make a setting look sinister, or friendly, just by the angle at which you held your camera.  Films, Even thought, were easy.  They did what you told them, and if you didn’t like something you could tweak it.  Change it.  Control it.   The one thing Even didn’t pay much attention to, though, was the soundtrack.  It never seemed important, not having had much of an impact on the movies he’d started avidly watching.  But that all changed the day he watched _Romeo + Juliet_ for the first time.  The music took him over, entranced him -- it helped build the story, helped him feel all the joy of falling in love, helped the rage boil into his blood as Mercutio died on a beach, helped stir the emotions to the final climactic scenes.  It helped drag the tears out of him as the families stood around and bodies were taken to a morgue.

Maybe he’d always had a soundtrack and never noticed it before.  Even didn’t know.  He just knew he heard it first the day after that first screening.  He was 16 and a small stirring of strings started up in the back of his head, keeping him company.  The sound was slightly discordant, a little jarring, almost melancholy.  That figured, Even thought.  The soundtrack of his life _would_ be tinged with pain … sadness … melancholia.  Even didn’t resent it, though.  On the contrary, he welcomed it.  With the music gently playing, he felt almost grounded.  Like he could breathe easily, with none of the exhilarating highs or terrifying lows that sometimes dogged him.  Let it be sad, then.  If it allowed him to feel free for once, then let it be sad, and welcome.

Besides, it wasn’t like it was always there; at least he didn’t think it was.  It was only sometimes, in the moments between thinking, that Even would notice the music. 

In those early days, it was almost always _Romeo + Juliet_.  When he was with Sonja, it would be bright and breezy and the first half of the movie would come to life inside him.  _On lusty gentlemen_ , the music would chirp helpfully over a pulsing bass beat whenever they fell into bed.  Or she’d smile, and the gas station music would stir up inside his head.  Apparently, his subconscious thought the duel was an appropriate message to tie to her smile.  Even would scoff at it, and remind it that there was also a rather more appropriate voice warbling almost in hallelujah.  His brain would always smirk (and why did the bastard smirk at him like that?  It was supposed to support him, wasn’t it?), and press the duelling further forward ‘til it took over.

Some days, Even would do something particularly epic (like make a movie about the beautiful love between Captain America and Vladimir Putin) and the epic strings of the opening music would swell around him.  Those days, Even would walk like he owned the school -- the music, his companion, proving he was worth something as he strutted.  Those days, Mikael would laugh at him, but Even never minded.  The music proved he was alive, and active.  The music proved he could think and feel something for himself. 

It took a long time before Even noticed that what he thought of as Romeo’s music had started accompanying him almost constantly.  It just seemed … right.  It fit.  Not that he was Romeo, of course (Even had no inclination to recreate _that_ particular love story), but the tone -- the drums, the slight upbeat feeling which nevertheless was tinged with an underlying melancholy.  And the words.  Always the words.  _I’m nothing … I’m nothing …_ and wasn’t that the truth, Even thought in bitterness some days.  Everyone else had the, what was it that Romeo had said?  The steerage of his course?  Yes.  Even, himself, was nothing, had nothing.  Everyone around him had squeezed and squeezed until Even was a shell -- a shell they manipulated and pushed and moulded until he did whatever they wanted him to.  All he could do was go with it or try in frustration to get them to back off. 

 

By the time he was 19 and flunking out of Bakka for too many reasons to mention -- or rather, reasons that Even often shied away from in denial -- the music had shifted, slowly but surely, to the second half of the movie.  Despairing, dark, depressing.  Discordant.  _Moulin Rouge_ sometimes made an appearance, but never the idealistic love songs.  No, it was always the darker stuff, when death was inevitable and imminent, and long-lasting, true love just an infuriatingly unattainable dream. 

Whether due to the medication evening out his moods, or due to his life being so micromanaged by everyone else that he almost had no part in it at all, the shift had been so slow that Even didn’t notice how much it had changed.  At least, he didn’t until the day he started at Nissen, desperate to fit in and make it work this time.

He spotted someone.  A boy.  Just a boy, walking.  But he walked like he had a soundtrack of his own, and he radiated light (okay, brain, enough with the soppy metaphors, Even grumbled.  You’re making me feel like a fucking idiot).  Then the boy threw his head back and laughed at something one of the guys with him said, the sound carrying across the grounds and Even’s attention was called away from his stupid brain and focused entirely on the boy.  His eyes were bright as he clasped the hands of his companions in farewell, and continued on alone.  His head bobbed up and down as if he were listening to his own music, and the hoodie he was wearing flopped into his eyes.  The boy flipped it away impatiently, his teeth dragging over his lower lip in concentration as he made his way to the door into school. 

As the boy disappeared, Even realised he was hearing a different beat.  A cheerful one.  A sliver of delight had entered his day, and it was intoxicating.  And so it went whenever Even saw the boy again.  He was always with the same group of boys, and all Even ever got was barely a glimpse for a second or two, and never every day.  And yet, he found himself craving those moments.  Moments when his music would change and the joyful tones of early _Romeo + Juliet_ would return, or the idealistic tunes from _Moulin Rouge_.  Slowly, from that small start, Even began gathering his own set of friends around him.  Slowly, the music within him slid from dark and despairing to something more peaceful and positive.  At least, it did when he was at school. 

Even stopped hearing the happier music only when he saw the boy, as the rest of his life caught up and presented other opportunities for happiness.  But the boy still dominated his thoughts.  Isak, his name was.  Even learned as much as he could about him.  He learned he no longer lived with his parents, that something had happened to make them split up, though no-one seemed sure what that might have been.  He learned that many people at school thought Isak was gay.  Rather than seeing it as a joke, as so many people made it when they whispered about it, Even found that … hopeful.  His interest was just piqued even more.  However, he also learned that Isak had done some things last year that still followed him, things that some people in the school judged him for.  Even understood that; his past sometimes tried to crawl onto his back to drag him underwater with it.  Instead of repulsing him, though, the new knowledge made Even feel more sympathetic towards the boy.  It made him want to meet him.  

Starting this new school had given him renewed confidence, and even happiness, and Even was thriving.  The music in his head now was steadfast, determined.  It encouraged Even that this was the right thing to do.  He would meet this golden boy.  What he would do then, Even didn’t know.  He just knew he had to meet him.  The correctness of his decision was only heightened when he glanced at the spot where he knew Isak was sitting in the cafeteria, and saw his eyes sliding away from Even’s, a blush staining his cheeks.  It was a sign -- one to go along with the chirping lilt of _you and me, always and forever … bah bah bah_ pinging around inside his head, the song almost cloying in its cheerfulness.  His subconscious, for once Even noticed approvingly, was giving him only positive messages about his intentions.

 

Walking into kosegruppa for the first time was unnerving.  The soundtrack in Even’s head was stuttering and anxious, the strings fluttering and refusing to settle to any one recognisable tune.  Even swallowed, but pushed the door open.  If his damn soundtrack wasn’t going to play ball, then he was damn well going to act like he had his epic music with him anyway.  It didn’t take more than a moment for Even to notice where Isak was sitting, and it was almost physically painful to drag his eyes away and force himself to pay attention to what the leader girl was saying to him.  The non-existent epic music he’d forced into his head was enough to help propel him across the room to where Isak was sitting, and from there it was easy.  In fact, the music seemed to fade away entirely, leaving just Even behind.  Surprisingly, just Even was making a fairly good hash of getting Isak to notice him and soon they were seated outside sharing a smoke and talking … actually interacting.  Just Even, just Isak.  And it was good.  This stillness in his mind was good.  There was a girl, an annoying intrusion into their time.  But Isak didn’t appear to be all that interested in her.  Even held out hope that this meant the rumours of his sexuality weren’t as out of line as rumours so often were, and his mood remained undisturbed. 

And so it went on.  When Even was with Sonja or his parents, the music was almost always sombre, boring.  Sometimes flashing irritation and defiance, but usually just dull.  When Even was at school, though, or with his other friends elsewhere, the music either dropped away entirely as he focused on the moment he was in, or it bounced from cheerful tune to epic string orchestra.  When he saw Isak, however, it always sent a thrilling anxious knot into his belly.  His soundtrack had decided that only the most ridiculous love songs were right in these situations, and Even listened in frustration as all the soppiest pieces from Luhrmann’s movies swelled up whenever Isak looked at him ( _love me, love me, say that you love me …)._   It happened satisfyingly often, though, which always made Even’s stomach flutter.  But the thing was … the thing was, that when he watched those movies he’d always imagined himself in sappy love with someone gorgeous when those songs played.  So when his brain presented _those_ songs to him whenever he saw Isak, it was hard for Even to avoid blushing and stuttering.  And there were times when _that_ just didn’t work -- for example, when he was trying to look cool to impress Isak.  Particularly the times when he could see the girl (Emma?) approaching Isak with all the confidence that Even lacked. 

Meeting Isak on the way home and getting him to come to his house, then.  That had been a masterstroke.  His house had long been associated with his parents and Sonja, and the music that played in his head there had always been muffled and boring, or -- on his worst days -- discordant and horrifying.  But today … today it was hip hop weaving in among a blinding smile.  It was bright eyes and a slow easy beat.  An infectious laugh and a comfortable silence.  So when Sonja interrupted, it was a sudden bursting of a peaceful bubble.  The discordant tone of his usual soundtrack returned, mixing itself in with the happier music that being with Isak had generated.  Even frowned at this intrusion into his happy little world, and felt it slip away a little more as Isak made his excuses and left soon after.

 

As much as Even tried to stay on an even keel, he couldn’t stop those flutters whenever Isak came into his view, and he definitely couldn’t stop the grin that sometimes slipped out when he noticed how often Isak was looking back at him now, with a blush staining his cheeks and a small smile on his lips.  Even’s music in those moments was always hopeful and lively -- sounds he associated with Isak more and more.  

If you left Sonja out of it (and Even was occasionally embarrassed at how often he did just sort of … forget about her these days), there was still the issue of Isak clearly being ashamed of the things he was feeling, not being ready to take the step into a relationship.  From wary glances in a dance hall, to frustrated eye contact while kissing a girl, Isak was so very obviously torn and anxious.  Satine and Christian would sing their haunting duet to Even in those moments, one so very sure of their love, the other so unsure ( _love lifts us up where we belong… love makes us act like we are fools… we should be lovers… we can’t do that)._   Frustrated, Even would smile and nod, keep his cool and move on.  But the longer it lasted, the more it unnerved him.  

He couldn’t force Isak into anything, but he wanted to pierce that façade of his, because it looked very much to Even like he wanted this too.  Even just hoped that one day his Christian would manage to convince Isak’s Satine to take the leap and the chance.  He had some hope this time that Isak could be persuaded.  He’d been so _very_ close, after all.  Even _had_ managed to almost kiss the boy, only to be thwarted by the sudden arrival of a former flatmate.  He’d felt all the intrusion of the Count into his music that night, and almost groaned with the maddening need to shut out the rest of the world.  But it had been too late; Isak had retreated and Even had to start over again. 

 

A week passed.  In real terms, in terms of the days he had numbered across his life, that was a mere blink.  But to Even it felt like an eternity.  The few moments when he would catch a glimpse of Isak’s hair glinting across the yard, or his backwards cap in the line at the cafeteria, felt like islands of light in a sea of dead time.  And _yes_ , Even told his brain in a snarky attempt to make it shut up when it presented the most sickening love song it could possibly find at that idea, he _knew_ he was being freaking sappy as hell, not to mention mixing his fucking metaphors.  He didn’t care, either.  The one conversation he managed to have with Isak made him grin for the rest of the day, particularly since it meant they’d be together before the party that weekend.  And if Even didn’t intend to make it to the party, well … that was between him and Isak.  _Voulez vous coucher avec moi_ , his soundtrack suggested, winking at him.  _Shut up_ , he hissed at it, feeling the crimson staining his cheeks. 

Adding people to what had originally been intended as a private moment between him and Isak made things a little … well, a little difficult, obviously.  Particularly _these_ people -- Sonja and that infuriatingly pushy girl.  Deep in his heart, Even knew she couldn’t really be blamed.  All she’d done, after all, was go after a boy she liked, much like Even had.  But when she was sitting between him and Isak, an actual physical impediment to his hopes, Even found himself being less than charitable.  The music in Even’s head became a grumpy hip hop beat that he was certain Isak would love.  While that made him smile a little, the whole day seemed wasted, and it felt like something was always going to prevent this particular love story from playing out.  

So when the girls left the room at exactly 21.21, Even knew it was a sign.  _Because we can can can_ , his brain chirped at him, and he thought, _fuck it_ and before he knew it he and Isak were in a pool, they were kissing and all music had finally faded as he appreciated the moment, allowed himself to truly _be_ in the moment, to feel everything in bright neon colour.  Even focused on the wary excitement in Isak’s eyes as they resurfaced, the biting cold of his hands on Even’s shoulders contrasting with the warmth of his lips and mouth as they came together again.  He allowed himself to truly feel the starburst exploding in his chest.  For once, there was nothing Even could think of to direct this moment in any way that could make it better.  Not even the intrusion of another person into their small bubble could affect Even’s mood. 

The stillness, the lack of a soundtrack intruding into his thoughts, continued throughout the next day.  The quiet moments lying with Isak on his bed, the world at bay and nothing to do but learn about each other, were allowed to sit in comfort, with no soundtrack to add commentary or force a feeling.  Even felt calm, at peace.  The day could have felt long, but instead it felt as short and insubstantial as a dream.  They talked of everything and nothing; important everythings and frivolous nothings.  The weed they smoked made Even feel even more tethered to the boy tucked under his arm.  His body was firm and warm, a solid reality as Even’s mind sent him flying to other places on the wisps of smoke.  In the moments of lucidity, Even knew this wasn’t a great idea, he knew it was a matter of time before the smoking caught up with him.  This day or another; it always did in the end.  He knew, and yet he gambled -- risking it all for the softness of Isak’s smile and the trust in his body as it curled into Even’s own. 

So he wasn’t surprised when sleep remained elusive and his thoughts started darkening in the early morning hours while Isak snuffled quietly beside him, looking peaceful and so very young in sleep.  Even read Sonja’s texts, listened to her voice messages, and his thoughts closed in even further.  She was right.  He was reckless, thoughtless, incapable of making good decisions.  Finally, Even couldn’t stand it anymore -- he couldn’t be here when Isak woke.  Even couldn’t look at the trust and hope in those eyes and know he was something else, something other, something that Isak should be avoiding.  And so he drew a picture and left, the music returning in all its jarring, discordant glory as he slipped out of Isak’s bed and into the grey of an early morning in his apartment.  The flatmates were welcoming, interested, charming even, which made the bleak feeling settling in the pit of Even’s stomach even harder to bear as he smiled, said all the right things and finally escaped. 

By the time Even got home, the entire world had reduced to grey and the music surrounding him was suitably subdued and washed out.  Nothing stirring or exciting now, no lyrics, nothing to give it any life or interest, just an insistent humming buzz sitting just behind his eyes.  In those moments, Even knew he was worthless, knew he was of no use to anyone, and nothing Sonja or his parents could say made any difference.  Sonja’s anger and disgust that he’d just left on Friday didn’t help.  He was honest -- let her know there was someone else, and though she huffed her scorn he knew there was fear in her.  The worst of it was that it was fear for _him_ , not herself.  

She told him Isak wasn’t going to help him, that Even was giving up his support for a flash of a fling that would go nowhere and burn out after a few brief moments.  Brief moments that could set him back.  But fuck that, Even thought tiredly.  He was sick of her living his life for him, monitoring him, controlling him.  Besides, he was sure she was wrong about this one thing.  Even in the depths of the grey fog he found himself in, where he was sleeping for hours on end and barely able to drag himself from bed for long enough to eat, the memory of Isak was a beacon.  The memory of Isak’s laugh could draw a small smile.  The memory of Isak’s insistence that he was good at everything drew a reluctant snort.  Even wasn’t exactly happy when he thought of Isak, but the thoughts made him feel less alone, less like it was him against everyone else and his own mind.  It was a feeling Sonja hadn’t inspired in him in a very long time.  And so he told her he couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t be with her anymore.  She’d nodded, exasperated resignation in her eyes.  Agreed that they could take a break while he figured out his shit, and got this infatuation out of his system, and then she’d left. 

 

By Wednesday, Even finally felt more like himself, though totally drained of energy, and his soundtrack had returned to a more lively cadence, though not yet at its normal cheerful pace.  The need to see Isak was now a craving.  So Even forced his feet to the school, but he carefully avoided his own classes and classmates.  Standing by the gym, watching Isak with his soccer ball before he noticed Even, he was struck again by just how different this feeling was than what he’d felt for Sonja.  She had made him feel accepted, yes, and happy even.  He’d loved her once, had found comfort in her arms and contentment in her smile, but she’d never stirred this bubbling of emotions that one glance at Isak had created.  So, Even was able to tell Isak truthfully that he wasn’t sad at all that he’d broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years.  He didn’t regret a moment of it.  A sweet love song was whispering in his ears and he smiled as he kissed Isak.  

But then it all fell apart.  Because, while this was the best thing that had ever happened to Even, Isak was saying he would be better off without him.  Oh, he didn’t know that was what he was saying, but the truth of it caught and stuck in Even’s throat.   _Come what may_ , his soundtrack burbled, seemingly unaware of the painful irony of choosing _that_ song right now, _I will love you ‘til my dying day_. His heart squeezing at the wary hopefulness he saw on Isak’s face, Even kissed him one last time and left.  It was for the best.  Even could see the pain, anger and confusion in Isak’s face when he talked about his mother, and he didn’t want to do that to him too.  He didn’t want to be the one who made it all a bit worse when Isak had made a clear decision to prioritise his own health. 

 

The next days were a washed out nightmare.  Isak tried to contact him, and while Even was desperate to go to him, to see him and beg him to love him despite his one glaring weakness, he stood his ground.  Even felt sad, dejected.  Not the way he did when the depression overtook him, but something cooler, less cutting.  It was no less painful.  He could go out in the world, take a superficial part in everyday life.  Attend his classes, talk to his friends, eat his food, even laugh a little, and act with Sonja like they were still good for each other.  But none of it felt like it had any purpose or meaning.  His soundtrack was now mournful -- not dark the way it had been in the past, even days ago,  just light strings conjuring a melancholy feeling and making Even wish he could do anything to make it change.  But it stubbornly sang of lost loves and empty days, always reminding him of exactly what he was losing. 

And always there was Isak.  Walking into the school yard, sitting with his friends, eating in the cafeteria.  Never smiling, never laughing.  And he looked so withdrawn and distant, pale and lifeless.  A husk of his former self.  It hurt.  It hurt Even a lot to know that he had probably caused it, that he had made this boy -- who should always be smiling and bright -- look like he had no purpose in life either.  The one time he tried to talk to him, to explain and ask if they could try something … anything, Isak pushed past him as if it hurt too much to be anywhere near Even let alone talking to him.  And that wasn’t okay.  Maybe they couldn’t … or shouldn’t … be together, but that didn’t mean Isak needed to look like _that_.  

Even drew the first note accompanied by a depressed hip hop song about lost hope and broken dreams.  He slipped it into Isak’s pocket to a sly beat that suggested spies and intrigue.  It pulled a slight smile from his lips, and made Even hope that Isak, too, would smile.  Even would never see that smile, of course, but he hoped that Isak would know he was thinking of him and know somehow that this separation was for the best.  And it _was_ , Even reminded himself as he sat with Sonja watching a movie that night, for the best.  For Isak.  He had to keep that in his mind.  Isak was better off without him.  

It was hard, though, and Even vacillated between wanting to reach out to Isak and wanting to stay distant to protect him, give him time to get over it and past it.  Sometimes wanting to reach out won, and Even would slip a note into his locker or watch intently to see any stray smile that might pop onto Isak’s face.  Other times, Even would feel all the guilt of his actions and he’d ignore a text or resolutely turn away when he saw Isak around the school.  Throughout that time, the music in his head was at war.  It would shift from sweet hopeful melodies to harder, darker tones.  The loving but melancholic mood of _to you everything I bestow_ battled with the harshness of _see your face everywhere that I walk in, hear your voice every time that I’m talking._ But always, always it told of his love for Isak.  No matter how bitter the song, the love was always there, sitting behind the words.  There were days when he wanted to yell at himself: you fucker!  You’re 19!  How can you think this way?  You’re too damn young!  But always in the back of his mind he knew: he’d never felt anything like this before.  And that meant something, even if he couldn’t pursue it. 

 

Even knew he shouldn’t hold out hope, and that he should let Isak go, but in the back of his mind, Even was waiting for a sign.  Something to tell him what he should do -- or, if he was totally truthful with himself, something to tell him to go for it and fuck the consequences.  It came when he finally decided he couldn’t keep pretending with Sonja anymore, regardless of what happened with Isak, and broke it off finally and irrevocably.  His soundtrack mellowed out, settled, left him feeling calm and restful in the wake of that conversation.  But that wasn’t the sign.  No, the sign was the text he almost immediately received from Isak telling Even to call when he broke up with his girlfriend.  Which Even had just done.  It was a sign he should do everything above board.  That he needed to be truthful with everyone, from Sonja to Isak to all the people he knew.  Hiding wasn’t beneficial for him anymore. 

Which meant that when Isak opened that door, Even genuinely intended to tell him, to let him know.  To throw himself on Isak’s mercy and ask him to take a chance on Even, issues and all.  But when he saw that face, so wary and still with signs of hurt sitting behind the eyes, Even couldn’t do it.  He almost left then, but Isak kissed him and all his senses were overwhelmed.  In that moment, Even threw caution to the wind.  He wanted this, and he could just … he could hide it, right?  Isak didn’t need to know Even was someone who could ruin his life.  Even could keep it under control for as long as it took.  He didn’t have to risk Isak turning away from him with pity in his eyes, or worse with panic and fear that his own life would be destroyed.  Isak believed he would be better off without mentally ill people in his life, so Even would make sure he wasn’t mentally ill -- at least not where Isak could see him.  _You don’t care if it is wrong or if it’s right,_ his soundtrack sneered at him, but Even ignored it.  He wanted this, and he couldn’t bear to lose it again. 

Even was careful over the next week.  He did what he could to be a good boyfriend, to ensure that Isak was happy.  He cooked, he laughed, he sang, he kissed (oh how he kissed -- sometimes he thought he was kissing too much, but then any attempt to pull back felt wrong, as if something was out of whack with the universe).  Through the week there was very little accompanying music.  Even was too happy to pay any attention to any extraneous music that may be hanging around.  And he _was_ happy, almost deliriously so.  But there was always an edge to the happiness.  Whenever Isak came close to suspecting something was up, Even could feel the panic curling in his veins, and he would deflect or distract Isak to keep him from working out the big secret, the thing that would pull him from Even forever.  It was selfish, and Even knew that, but every time he thought about being open the prospect of losing Isak shut his mouth.  When Sonja tried to contact Isak, Even felt a cold hand squeezing his heart and did his best to put Isak off.  But he could sense the fairytale coming to an end. 

In an effort to keep up the illusion for just a few moments longer, Even booked a suite for the two of them.  He also felt like -- if he could just pull off the right grand gesture -- that Isak could be his forever regardless of any illness or problem.  There would _be_ no problems.  They’d be together forever.  Marriage, then, was the next logical step.  Marriage, a family, a home … togetherness forever.  The music soared around him, egging him on with its epic stories of love and hope overcoming all odds.  Its strings sang of fulfilment and grandiose plans executed perfectly.  Even told Isak all of this, all his thoughts, all the things that were possible, the things they could achieve together.  He felt on top of the world, with everything he’d ever wanted slotting so easily into place, and Isak there beside him.  The more he drowned in that smile, the more Even felt he could do.  The hotter Isak looked in the bed, the more energy Even gained.  Together they were invincible.  

It was only logical, then, that he go out and get something for this boy who made his life so much better.  Clothes?  No.  No time for that.  Even needed to do this right now.  He left Isak smiling sleepily in bed, and as he wandered Even thought of that smile waiting for him when he got back.  Loud noises and people yelling greeted him as he got to the foyer, but Even just grinned at them, waved and carried on.  He had a mission, a gesture to make, and nothing was going to stop him now. 

After that, he lost track of all that happened.  It was cold, but that was unimportant.  People yelled, but he barely noticed.  By the time the police caught up to him, Even was convinced they were there to support his grand gesture, so he allowed them to take him away.  He still felt great, and couldn’t understand why everyone looked so solemn.  He told them all of the great love affair he was having, and how they would be getting married, possibly next weekend, and everyone would be coming to the ceremony naked with only ties as accessories -- as a tribute, you see, to the greatest love story ever told.  No-one seemed as excited by this prospect as Even was, but that was okay -- he just told them in more detail everything that he was planning.  If he just got the words right, he knew everyone would understand how brilliant this was going to be. 

His parents took him away while he was still enjoying his chat with the nice police officer who was sitting with him.  And once he was at home, his parents and Sonja wore identical expressions of worry mixed with anger and distrust -- which Even laughed off until the moment the next day when he woke up with his mind feeling somewhat more clear and with a shaking disgust of his own in the pit of his stomach. 

Fuck.  It _had_ caught up with him.  Even’s heart sank as Sonja recounted being contacted by Isak in the middle of the night.  The hope that Isak, at least, had been spared this was now gone.  Even could feel the depression creeping in, putting out small feelers into the lingering high he was still feeling, as Sonja (and sometimes his parents) tried to talk to him about what he’d done.  But all Even could think about was Isak.  He tried to contact him as often as he could that day, sending song lyrics which reminded him of the two of them, the music acting as coded messages asking if he was okay and in a wild hope that this would convince Isak, but Isak just asked him to stop.  Stop texting him, leave him alone.  It was true then; Isak had meant every word he said when he’d told Even he didn’t want to be surrounded by mentally ill people.  Even could feel the last edges of the mania leaving and the depression coming ever closer. 

It didn’t matter anymore anyway.  Without Isak there was no meaning to his life.  Fuck his parents, and fuck Sonja if they truly thought it was better for him to be without Isak.  Even couldn’t remember exactly everything that had happened, but he did remember it was all about Isak, all for Isak.  Now, with Isak gone, there was nothing stopping him from sliding into the abyss where everything was dark and nothing was right with the world.  His soundtrack had returned, and it brought sombre songs, mournful lyrics, funereal tones.  Even groaned and shoved his head under his pillow to get away, but the music followed him unrelentingly.  

The next few days passed in a blur of voices telling him to forget ‘his stupid ideas’ about Isak and to return to ‘normal’ -- whatever normal was.  Trying to get him to a doctor to get new medication to ‘sort out his brain’ and get over his ‘bizarre’ obsession with Isak.  Through it all, Even drifted.  He was exhausted, plagued by thoughts of how awful he’d been, how selfish.  Thoughts that it was all his fault that Isak hated him now.  He felt guilty -- guilty that he hadn’t seen the episode coming, that he hadn’t managed to protect Isak better.  Guilty that Sonja had spent the last two days crying over him.  Guilty.  Always guilty.  He vaguely thought he heard his phone ringing at times during the week, but he never had the energy to reach for it to see who it was.  It was never going to be the one person he wanted it to be, so Even learned to ignore it, letting it cut off any calls within a few rings at most.  

By Friday, Even felt claustrophobic, having been shut in his room for so long.  He wanted to get out, feel the air on his face and try to live outside his own head for a few minutes.  He knew his parents and Sonja would never let him go out alone, so he waited ‘til Sonja had gone home and his parents were eating dinner in the other room before he slipped out the door.  His feet led him to the school, the place where he’d first seen Isak.  So much had happened since that moment where a boy’s laugh had called to him across a school yard.  Even sighed, tired from even that short a walk, and sank down onto the seat where they’d shared their first conversation.  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, intending to turn it off.  But he noticed a missed call from Isak on Wednesday, and the current time: almost 9.  It wouldn’t be long until it was 21.21, a time that had once felt so significant but was now another nothing time, as meaningless as every other moment.  

With his heart stuttering in his chest, Even swallowed back the tears which were finally threatening to fall.  It was time to end it, this stupid hope he’d been hanging onto that Isak would want him too.  So he sent a text, a final benediction to their relationship.  He hoped Isak would find some comfort in the idea that in some other universe -- a universe where Even wasn’t a broken useless mess, maybe -- that an Isak and an Even were together forever.  It gave Even some small sense of peace, too.  That if he couldn’t have Isak, maybe one of the other Evens out there could.  Maybe _they_ could make it work the way it was supposed to.  

Swallowing again, Even went inside the school.  He’d been wrong, in the text.  The bench wasn’t where they’d met after all.  This nondescript bathroom was.  Even smiled slightly as he ran his hands over the paper towel dispenser.  That’s where it started, and that’s where it would now end.  With one final pat to the plastic, Even turned and walked out of the room and out of the school.  It was time to go home, time to face reality.  Time to let Isak go, and allow the others around Even to direct his life again. He’d made a fucking mess of it himself, after all.  It was probably best to let someone else run it for him again.  Their direction may be boring, but at least it worked.  If he was destined to be alone, let him at least be alone with his family.

Even stopped for a moment, sure he was hallucinating.  Was that possible?  Was the mania still there even while he felt this dreadful dark exhausting depression?  But the hallucination never wavered, and Isak’s face was filled with compassion and something that looked like relief so Even walked towards it, hope warring with disbelief.  For several long moments Even still couldn’t allow himself to accept that this was real, but by the time that Isak had him in a hug, Even believed.  This was real, this was here and now.  He felt genuinely calm for the first time in days.  Still exhausted, still unsure if this was the right thing to do, but calm. 

 

It wasn’t easy, of course.  The bone deep exhaustion, and the feeling that he was nothing -- a problem, a burden who would always _always_ drive everyone away -- remained with Even during the whole walk back to Isak’s house.  But for the first time in a long while, Even allowed himself to give in to sleep when he got there.  Isak lay by his side, a comforting presence whenever Even stirred.  Every time he woke throughout the night, Even would look at Isak who looked so peaceful and once again so damn young in sleep.  His heart squeezed.  This was great for right now.  But soon … tomorrow … Even had to leave.  He didn’t deserve the comfort and the peace that came with being with Isak.  Or rather, Isak didn’t deserve the eventual and inevitable pain that would come with Even.  He’d seen it in Sonja’s face the last time she left the house, in his parents’ expressions, the strain causing deep lines to accumulate around their mouths and eyes.  Even absolutely didn’t want to see it on Isak’s face too.  Isak, who already had enough to deal with in his mother.  Even had to leave, then.  Tomorrow.  Tomorrow he’d leave.  Right now, Even was too tired to do much more than roll over and allow sleep to take him under again.  There was no music anymore, just blank silence.  Even wasn’t sure if he found that sinister or comforting. 

When he woke finally, Isak was there.  He was lying so close, watching Even with a look he couldn’t quite decipher.  But he didn’t look happy.  Which … fuck.  It was already happening.  Even was already ruining his life.  But when Even said he had to leave, when he explained how it was going to inevitably end, Isak became fierce.  _Bullshit_ , his eyes said.  _That’s such fucking bullshit and you know it_.  His words were equally strong.  And even to Even’s fogged up brain it made a bit of sense.  Take it one minute at a time and don’t worry about the future.  He could … actually, Even could see doing them that, see _himself_ doing that.  So when Isak suggested they kiss, Even agreed.  And when Isak kissed him, it felt right. Good. There was no pressure.  No expectations, just two people together.  Taking a minute together.  The thoughts that had been festering in Even’s mind started to quiet, and a quiet track began to play softly in his head -- no lyrics, just a peaceful, serene piano solo.  Even smiled and let himself drift again.  With Isak right there -- right there and refusing to let go -- the music soothed him into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.  

The next few days melted into each other.  There were times when Even felt okay and he’d get up, sit somewhere, talk to Isak’s flatmates for a few moments.  There were other times where all Even wanted to do was sleep, falling into the welcome arms of oblivion for as long as he could.  But always there was also Isak, even when he wasn’t there.  Being in Isak’s space kept Even’s whirling thoughts on some sort of track, and a hip hop beat that reminded Even of the first afternoon they’d spent together swirled around his head, reminding him of Isak and his bright eyes and blinding smile.  

By Wednesday, Even felt good enough to be up and dressed for most of the day, playing games and interacting roughly normally.  He called his mother and let her know he was feeling okay again.  She almost sobbed with relief, and Even felt a twinge of guilt at the knowledge that she’d been so very worried while he was away.  Even agreed to come home, at least for a while.  The music in his head became a little stilted and anxious at the thought of leaving this place which had come to mean home.  Peace.  Comfort.  The melody refused to settle to anything specific, bouncing from pitch to pitch as his thoughts whirled anxiously too.  But Even knew it hadn’t been fair on his family, and that he owed them some time.  He had enough awareness now to notice that he had never been left alone the entire time Isak was out at school for the last three days.  He didn’t resent it, despite how awful Isak was at lying when Even asked about it.  But he felt like it was time to move away from that level of support and back to his familiar spaces, as much as he selfishly wanted to stay.  Thankfully, Isak understood.  Minute by minute.  Hour by hour. 

Even so, Even made sure that he kept in contact.  He sent pictures of things that reminded Even of Isak, or short texts just to remind Isak that he was thinking of him.  In the background, gentle tunes wound through his brain.  They weren’t as stifling or overpowering anymore.  The soundtrack had returned, Even thought, to something similar to when it had first started back when he was 16.  It was a settled mix of sounds weaving in between his thoughts, an accompaniment not an intrusion.  When he walked into the party on Friday and saw Isak, Even felt all of his usual giddy joy.  His body thrummed with the need to press itself against his, but the music ... the music remained calm.  No cheesy love song or thumping hip hop.  Just a cheerful baseline to his feelings.  It was, thought Even when he finally kissed Isak the way he wanted to -- and they laughed and joked, at ease with the situation and each other -- the very best type of soundtrack.  It was one he could choose.  Even finally had a measure of control over his own life, and his music reflected that.  It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Music referenced in order (only ones specifically mentioned in the fic, though more are referenced obliquely):
> 
> Young Hearts Run Free - Kym Mazelle (with dialogue from the movie rather than lyrics from the song itself)  
> Gas Station Scene - Nellee Hooper, Craig Armstrong and Marius de Vries  
> O Verona - Nellee Hooper, Craig Armstrong and Marius de Vries  
> Talk Show Host - Radiohead  
> You and Me Song - Wannadies  
> Love Fool - The Cardigans  
> Elephant Love Melody - Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman  
> Lady Marmalade - Christina Aguilera, Lil’ Kim, Mya and Pink  
> Because We Can - Fatboy Slim and Jim Broadbent  
> Come What May - Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman  
> To You I Bestow - Mundy  
> #1 Crush - Garbage  
> El Tango de Roxanne - José Feliciano, Ewan McGregor and Jacek Koman


End file.
